


In Uniform

by deviant900



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hank Anderson loves a sharp-dressed man, M/M, Oral Sex, Police Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviant900/pseuds/deviant900
Summary: this was largely inspired by my own love for apiece of concept artthat really caught my eye!i actually finished this a few days ago, on the 13th, but decided to wait until today to post it on my birthday. that at least gave me time to do an extra draft and some more proofreading. my gift to myself is hank anderson on his knees with a dick in his mouth. because i can. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  y'all enjoy.song of the day:miles away - falling in





	In Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> this was largely inspired by my own love for a [piece of concept art](https://illusmono.tumblr.com/post/175248243511/dpd-buddy) that really caught my eye! 
> 
> i actually finished this a few days ago, on the 13th, but decided to wait until today to post it on my birthday. that at least gave me time to do an extra draft and some more proofreading. my gift to myself is hank anderson on his knees with a dick in his mouth. because i can. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ y'all enjoy.
> 
> song of the day: [miles away - falling in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0N7atRntybU)

As of that morning, Connor was officially a paid member of the Detroit Police Department. Hank didn’t think he could have been prouder of him. Connor had literally been made for this; every program and bit of code was written to make him excel in his work. Hank hadn’t been over-the-moon about his own position in quite a while, but something about the change in Connor since his deviancy had affected his work. Hank didn’t entirely hate admitting that Connor had been doing his job leagues better in the past year.

The paperwork had finally been processed and completed, and the damn android even had a salary now. Somehow, he had talked Fowler into it, saying something about helping Hank out with bills, emergency expenses, and other amenities. (“He refused to be a ‘freeloader’ in his own home,” Fowler had said later, after Connor’s excited announcement.)

He had money, he had a title, and with all of it, a brand new uniform. The measurements had been done without Hank’s knowledge, and it had finally come in while they were out casing a scene. It was the most emotion Hank had ever seen on Connor’s face when he had gotten his hands on it.

He wouldn’t outright admit to it, but he was just as excited to see him in it. He remembered his own bright-eyed optimism after graduation, his mother’s comments about never having seen him out of his uniform the first two months after receiving it. Would Connor show the same enthusiasm?

Hank thought so. Connor had ridden home with the folded bundle of clothes sitting in his lip, practically vibrating in the passenger seat. Hank was worried that he had worried a hole into the shirt the entire way as he rolled the fabric between his fingers. Connor had rushed inside to change, and Hank had popped open a beer and taken a seat on the couch to wait.

They had gotten home late in the evening, too late to take Sumo on a proper walk. He had been shuffled out the back door and into the fenced yard. He was probably pissing on an ant bed, waiting for Hank to let him back in.

Hank checked the time. Was Connor admiring himself in the mirror? Normally, he was done dressing himself before Hank had even gotten out of the shower, if he wasn’t joining him. Hank supposed he couldn’t blame him too much for wanting to check himself out, but damn, his patience was wearing thin.

He swallowed a mouthful of beer and nearly called out for Connor to see if he had managed to get stuck in his shirt before he heard the door creak open. The glass bottle hit the coffee table a little too hard as he stood and set it down. Even if Connor didn’t want his opinion on how the uniform looked, he still wanted to see how it fit. He’d deny his empathetic excitement until the day he died.

Hank was halfway to standing when his eyes landed on Connor, and his mouth dropped open.

Connor… Connor looked good. _Really_ good.

The black was very slimming on him, cutting a sharp figure from his shoulders to his waist. The police department’s logo stood out against the shorter sleeve of his outer layer, embroidered in gold with the letters D.P.D. sewn in white beneath it, on his right side. A bold blue triangle drew attention at his chest, and beneath it, his model and serial numbers, present at Connor’s request.

His arms remained covered, hugged snuggly by a soft black shirt underneath the outer layer. There was no blue band at his biceps, Hank noticed. The sleeves disappeared into gloves of the same color. They looked to be made of leather, and, fuck, if that didn’t get Hank’s attention immediately.

Connor turned for him to be able to see everything. The pants were a perfect fit. If Hank was being honest, he definitely appreciated the way they shaped Connor’s ass. Delectable curves that fell away to comfortable and loose at about mid-thigh. They fell over the running shoes he had been given earlier that year; chasing down suspects in loafers wasn’t the best way to catch them, and Hank never knew how Connor had managed before.

He had even donned his tool belt to give him the illusion of being on the job. A pair of metal handcuffs hung off his waist, next to it, an unused can of pepper spray, and other necessary items tucked away into its pouches. The holster remained empty, his gun lying on the table in the kitchen.

Connor cut a pretty picture in his uniform, and the proud smile on his face betrayed that he knew it.

Hank’s throat closed up on a breath. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, raking his eyes over every inch, drinking in each detail of Connor in his new uniform. Fuck, he looked good. So, _so_ good. Hank couldn’t focus on anything else.  
  
Connor’s LED spun yellow at his temple. He was scanning, always scanning when he could. Hank couldn’t hide anything from him if he tried.

“Both your heart rate and your blood pressure just increased,” he announced. There was an innocence on his face that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. Those beautiful, brown, mischievous eyes. He knew exactly what Hank was thinking. “Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?”

Damn him, Hank thought as he approached. He never missed anything, and certainly didn’t miss the way Hank’s eyes were roaming over every inch of him. He put a hand against Connor’s abdomen and traced it upwards, feeling the dips and curves of a well-sculpted body. CyberLife knew exactly what they were doing when they made him.

Hank let out an appreciative whistle.

“How angry do you think Fowler would be if I ripped this off of you?” he asked. Connor’s usual puppy-dog smile transformed into a triumphant smirk. He didn’t make any move to push Hank’s hands off of him as another found purchase at his hip.

“I don’t know about the captain, but I’d be livid,” Connor warned. There was a legitimate threat in his tone, as though he thought Hank was serious.

“Hm. Suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind, won’t I?”

Connor was the first to move, crashing his lips to Hank’s and gripping his shoulders tightly. Hank’s fingers wrenched into Connor’s shirt to pull him close. He didn’t seem to have any problems with Hank wrinkling his shirt, moaning when they were chest to chest. Hank’s tongue slipped past his lips, and Connor released his shoulders to cup Hank’s face at both sides.

Hank pushed him until Connor’s back bumped against the wall. “You,” he started, punctuating each word with wet kisses to Connor’s mouth, jaw, and throat, “look so fucking good.”

The laugh bubbling in Connor’s throat was reduced to a moan. Hank’s hands stroked over every part of Connor that he could touch until he was pressing the flat of his palm against the growing tent of his pants, massaging and groping until Connor bucked up and rolled his hips against him. He was already hard and whining Hank’s name as a flash of heat hit him. He took hold of Hank’s shirt to keep himself from falling to his knees.

Connor let out a disappointed noise when Hank pulled his hand away, even through the tongue in his mouth. Hank felt blindly at his hips until he found the clasp to Connor’s tool belt and let it fall heavy to the floor. The desperation was practically pouring off of him as the button and zipper to his pants followed.

Hank took his time, enjoying the look of pleasure-hazed frustration on Connor’s face. He paused to kiss the corner of his mouth, at the shell of his ear, before finally, _finally_ , pulling Connor’s cock free. Connor groaned once he felt Hank’s warm hand on him.

He stroked him slowly, making sure Connor could feel each and every movement of his fingers against his shaft. Connor’s eyes fluttered shut, and his head fell back against the wall. He thrust into Hank’s fingers. Fuck, he looked perfectly debauched, hair falling just out of place in his eyes and a blue blush creeping down his neck. Hank adored it, loved to watch his pristine facade turn into such a raw, human expression.

“Tell me what you want, Connor,” he said. The LED at Connor’s temple burned yellow. His mouth fell open, a gasp, but nothing else. He seemed to hesitate, like his mind needed to catch up with everything around him. After a few moments, his LED spun back to blue.

“Your mouth,” Connor gasped, like a breath he’d been holding for too long.

Hank kissed him with his fingers running through Connor’s hair, over his shoulders, and pulling his shirt out from where it had been pristinely tucked in. He pushed it up to expose skin and kissed his way down to his knees at Connor’s feet. The skin dissipated beneath his lips, exposing the shiny plastic panels beneath, and closed back up as he moved.

Connor watched him, brown eyes following his every move. He always watched him when they were like this, entranced, almost like he was fascinated by it. His LED had cycled back to yellow while Hank took him in hand. He struggled to keep his eyes open with each spark of pleasure hitting his sensors, wanting to squeeze them shut in pleasure. He gave in with a moan when Hank circled the pad of his thumb over the head.

Hank stroked him again, still slowly, watching Connor’s hips stutter as his fingers neared the tip, teasing him, and then slid back down the shaft. He twisted his wrist on the next stroke. It tore a loud, high moan from Connor, who had forced his eyes back open so he could watch Hank suck the head into his mouth. Their eyes locked as he did so, and Hank teased the underside with the tip of his tongue so he could watch Connor squirm.

Hands locked into Hank’s hair. Fingers tangled and wrapped themselves around it to encourage him forward. Even wordlessly, Hank couldn’t refuse Connor anything he asked.

Hank sucked air through his nose before taking more and more of Connor into his mouth. He didn’t taste like a human, but the weight on his tongue was familiar. Hank couldn’t stop his own appreciative moan. Connor hissed above him, and his hips jolted forward. An apology followed while Hank pulled away, Connor’s cock falling out of his mouth.

“I—Hank, I’m sorry. I didn’t mea”—

A twist of Hank’s wrist turned Connor’s words into a garbled mess.

“I’m not so old that I’m completely fragile,” Hank said, tongue teasing the slit, “but watch those hips of yours.”

Hank took Connor back into his mouth, and Connor choked on a moan. Precum dribbled over Hank’s tongue. It pooled over his bottom lip and down his chin. The taste reminded him of the flavorless lube sitting in his nightstand drawer. It hadn’t been used as often since the discovery of Connor’s self-lubricating features, although there were nights Connor used it to give Hank pleasure. 

He gave Connor’s shaft a hard suck, and the way Connor said his name got his heart stuttering and his blood rushing in his ears. He hollowed out his cheeks and stroked where he couldn’t fit his mouth. Hank couldn’t take a dick into his throat as easily as Connor could, but damn if he didn’t try. Connor never seemed to have any complaints about his work; although, Hank doubted he could manage to put together a complete sentence at the moment.

Connor’s eyes never left him. He watched Hank pull off of his dick with an obscene pop and tease the side of the shaft with his tongue. The fingers tightened in his hair, but Hank took a moment to catch his breath before taking Connor back in. His hips rolled against Hank’s mouth, carefully. Hank worked his mouth and tongue harder, sloppily sucking around him.

Connor was close, could feel the way his thirium valves raced and hear it in his ears, and his artificial heart felt as though it would fall apart while beating in his chest. He struggled to keep his eyes open through it all to watch Hank. The spark in his stomach grew hotter, the pressure too intense, and he voiced a weak warning before he came.

Connor coming was a sight to see. He finally gave in to the pleasure, eyes clenching shut, and his LED burned red. A wrecked and vulnerable moan echoed in Hank’s ears. His back arched off the wall to press his cock against the back of Hank’s throat. The watery tastelessness of Connor’s cum splashed against the back of his mouth and tongue. Hank pulled back as the last of the spurts dribbled out of the side of his mouth, and Connor shuddered at the sensitive scrape of his tongue.

Hank left him where he was, boneless and leaning heavy against the wall, before he spat out the contents of his mouth. Connor had once ensured him that there were no damaging effects to swallowing anything that came from his body, but Hank didn’t want to take any chances. Swallowing the precum from earlier was enough.

He returned to Connor’s side after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Connor had run a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, staring at the far wall as the red circle faded to yellow, faded to blue. Hank tucked him back into his pants while he was still recovering, circled his waist, and kissed him while he still had his eyes closed. Connor returned it. He cupped the curve of Hank’s jaw and poured his tongue into his mouth.

Whether Connor could detect his release there, he didn’t say.

Hank’s breath was hot against Connor’s cheek when they pulled apart. Connor smirked at him. He looked far prouder than he should have after writhing against the wall not even two minutes before.

“I take it you like the new uniform, Lieutenant?”

Hank pressed him against the wall to kiss him quiet.


End file.
